


Drugged on you

by dnovegga



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Love, M/M, PTSD, Pining, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnovegga/pseuds/dnovegga
Summary: Sherlock and John have been reunited after "the fall" and neither is really sure what to do although they know what they want to say. Sherlock knows he had withdrawal from the best drug he'd ever found. John knows he tried for so long to get over him and now.. now he's back.
Relationships: John x Sherlock, Johnlock, Sherlock x John - Relationship
Kudos: 33





	Drugged on you

He didn't need to pretend to be drugged. He was.   
On him. His eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his smile. His everything. The way he held himself even when the world was beating him down. Even when they were both beating him down in their own "special" ways. John with his newly returned PTSD, Sherlock with his dying and then reviving. And then there had been Mary. Besides the point. Focus Sherlock, focus on him. Focus on the moment.   
Silver blue eyes held green and for a moment a spark might have been seen if either had been paying attention.   
"What are you looking at that's so deeply set into my eyes, Sherlock?"  
"You."  
John didn't know what to say other than dropping his eyes to the dirty, unraveling corner of the carpet.   
"John, look at me. Look at me and only me."  
John's eyes snapped back up only this time full of fire and something Sherlock may have recognized had he been on the ground one fateful day, rather than up calling his goodbyes.   
"Don't say that. Don't you dare say that, don't do this to me again.."   
A quick tear fell out of Johns eye, and he angrily wiped it away. How dare he relapse like this. Again. Wasn't last time enough?   
Sherlock's jaw loosened as he realized what he'd said. Before he could apologize, maybe say or do something to bring the relaxed mood back, John's eyes held him from under his brow.   
"I know you didn't mean it like that. But you can't say that to me, not yet. Not now. It may be 4 years in the past but every time I close my eyes it's... it's like it's happening all over again."  
Sherlock nodded and knew, he knew what it was like. He'd relived that day and many others (though not quite as bad) every time his eyes closed. That's why he'd taken to popping sleeping pills and meditating for an hour or two rather than actually sleeping.   
John's head rolled onto the back of his chair.   
"I'm sorry, you looked like you had something you wanted to say but-"  
Sherlock cut him off.  
"It can wait. It's not important right now."  
"You obviously wanted me to pay close attention, so it must have had some importance to you."  
"I can wait."  
John looked down his nose, holding the other's gaze, longer than either realized. Or maybe they did and had gotten so drunk on each other's eyes that their heads hadn't quite caught up yet.   
There was silence in the tiny room, except for the occasional breath. Anything outside their world didn't exist. Sherlock puffed a sigh and opened his mouth, beginning to say something then closing it again.   
"What? Please say it. I need something to distract me."  
Sherlock's eyes closed, sorry for what he'd put John through. He was forever sorry. How could he not be?  
Another sigh and then he began, slowly letting his words come together.  
"You. I feel like I'm drunk on you. I'd never realized it before because I was too busy trying to impress you, I never noticed how bad I'd gotten. Those two years without you, they were some of the hardest years of my life. Not only because of what happened to me but because of what didn't."   
The words at the end came out jumbled and Sherlock began to backtrack, trying to right his meaning.   
"What do you mean by 'what didn't'?"  
The silence became overloading.   
"Sherlock say something or else I'm going to have to start blabbering about football."  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't comply.   
John rubbed his face, trying to force the battalion of tears at his eyes back to their barracks. "I don't like it when it's this quiet around here. Reminds me too much of those first months..."  
He didn't have to continue.   
Sherlock brought his knees up to his chin.   
"You didn't happen during those years. It was like the worst withdrawal I'd ever had. I was so worried I'd wake up one morning and forget what you looked like, what you sounded like, what you smelled like," Sherlock finished slowly, raising his eyes to gauge how John was doing.   
John pulled his head off the chair and leaned towards Sherlock.   
Sherlock didn't move, too embarrassed he assumed. (He'd never gotten embarrassed, obviously. [which was a lie, he just liked to convince himself otherwise.])   
"Sherlock..." John reached his hand out to grab one of the hands over Sherlock's shins. Sherlock froze, barely even allowing himself to breathe. John pulled them together, meeting on the floor in between the two old armchairs. He pressed his forehead to Sherlock's and closed his eyes.   
"Promise you won't leave again. Not like that, at least."   
The promise was simple, and Sherlock knew he'd be able to uphold it. Never again.   
"I promise."  
John's arms crept around his shoulders, eventually settling around his neck. John tucked himself under Sherlock's chin and into his chest. Sherlock followed suit and soon sat unmoving, except for the faintest breath over John's hair.   
They sat like that for a few minutes until nature had to intervene. Sherlock's foot was falling sleep and he could tell John's shoulder was beginning to ache. But neither wanted to move.   
"John, I need to move and you need to move. If we don't we'll both be miserable."  
"Agreed."  
Neither moved. Then, Sherlock slowly guided them further down to the old carpet. John's arms stayed around Sherlock's neck but he tangled his legs into Sherlock's, pulling them flush against each other.   
The sun shone through the curtains of one of the windows, illuminating their torsos, warming them. Like cats, they both began to nod off.   
"John?"  
"Hmm?"  
Sherlock inhaled slowly, "I love you, so much. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."  
John nuzzled into Sherlock's shoulder and lazily replied, "Love you too. We're here now so that's what counts."  
Several hours passed, neither moved though both woke at various times to shift and stretch, only to succumb to the warmth of the other.   
The sun had long gone down, and Ms. Hudson had come up to retrieve her mugs hours ago when they both woke.   
Sherlock was getting a face full of John's hair and John had a fist full of Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock's arms were wrapped around John, pressing them together chest to back.   
Sherlock was the first to open his eyes.   
"We really need a new carpet."  
"Shut up."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it or if there's anything you think I can improve on, please let me know!


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